


Undying

by JadeRiverDay



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other, POV Second Person, Prompt Fic, discord prompt, kinda wack ngl, morgue, not particularly satisfied with this, there's a morgue, there's not much to the relationship but I only had to write 500 words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24328294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeRiverDay/pseuds/JadeRiverDay
Summary: You can't heal a person who's dead, so just don't die.A doctor who kills and a patient that never heals.So many questions, but how long is it until the answers are lost?How ironic life must be.
Relationships: Prussia & Vietnam, Prussia/Vietnam (Hetalia)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Undying

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for an event on discord
> 
> it wasn't supposed to be Hetalia fanfiction, but I made it like that anyways

Waking up in a cold sweat, you see a figure in a lab coat reaching out towards you. “You’re awake,” the figure says. “Get the serum,” he calls out to another person.

A needle plunges into your arm, and you black out.

When you wake again, you find yourself in a morgue, white sheet over your body.

Someone yanks the sheet off you. It's a woman, you note, but you don't recognize her. You don't recognize or remember anything, but that doesn't come as a shock to you for some reason. "Get up," she mutters, and you find yourself being pulled up. "You don't have much time before they'll come to check on you."

They? You wonder why anyone would look for you. You see your skin, a milky white sheen, and you wonder why you're in the morgue. Are you dead? Is this the afterlife, if such a thing existed? It doesn't seem like it; that woman whose face has the only color you can see in the dimly lit room seems more than alive. You don't even question why you think that. "Who?" the word falls out of your mouth, and she stares at you, as if she wasn't expecting you to speak. How strange. It feels like you talk a lot, but she hasn't said more than a few words. 

She doesn't answer your question. Instead, she throws some unfamiliar clothing at you. "Get dressed. I'll be waiting outside." With that, she leaves through a door you didn't notice before and you hear the door close behind her. 

The words come to you as you stare at the objects. Pants, shoes, a shirt. You have no memories of any of these objects, and somehow, you still manage to put them on. It occurs to you that you have no reason to trust this stranger, but you brush it off. She seems concerned (you don't even know how you know that word) about something. Somehow, that's enough reason for you.

You open the door to find her standing just outside. She flinches slightly, and you wonder what's wrong before she shakes her head at some unspoken question (or was it a response?), grabs your hand, and pulls you along. She breaks into a run, and you find yourself doing the same in order to keep up with her. She runs fast. You note how her hair is tied back, and it feels normal for you, but you can't explain why. Her hand on yours feels normal. Running with her feels normal.

Why?

"We can't have them burying you prematurely," she explains, and you can hear her breathlessness from the running. "It took much longer for you to have a pulse this time, but no matter. You survived again, and that's all that matters."

Survived what? The words linger at the tip of your tongue, but the running sweeps the thought away. There's so much you don't know, why? Why did she say "this time"? "Again"? And why does this feel familiar?

She doesn't stop running until you're out of the building. You didn't even notice when you left the building, but you don't say anything. How could you not have noticed? That feels strange, but again, you don't even remember anything.

It takes her a few moments to catch her breath. "Well," she starts. "What do you remember?"

"Nothing." You know that much.

"That's expected." She looks up, and you realize that it's night. You just left a morgue at night with a stranger. 

"Why?" You have a lot of questions, but the most important one is "why?". A "why" would get you more answers than anything else, or so you think.

"Well, you just died after all," she says nonchalantly. "Seems to be something that happens every time. You never stay dead, that's the thing."

"Who are you?"

"Ah. You always ask me that right after." 

At first, you can't read her expression, but then her lips break into a smirk. Why? She's so strange, and yet she feels so familiar.

"I'm Vivian. Vivian Nguyen." She lets go of your hand as you stare, confused. Her smirk doesn't leave her face, but that doesn't infuriate you in the slightest. "I'm your doctor, of course."


End file.
